Society & Culture in the US

We enjoyed going to my brother-in-laws new vacation home for a weekend get together. Actually we ended us staying four days. It seems the whole family was there, at one time or another, and there was hardly sleeping room. We all brought sleeping bags, and home cooked dishes. The kids loved fishing at the lake and some of us rowed out into the middle of the lake to fish. We all stayed up late, ate grilled fish and vegetables — Grandma does not believe in frying any kind of food — and played all sorts of games. The men got into a disagreement about whether Brinks Home Security should have been the choice my brother-in-law made for his home. They were pros and cons thrown back and forth for a while, until everyone decided most of them were basically the same. This conclusion was drawn after much debate and many beers, with some wine thrown in for good measure. Of course, Grandma was having a very good time just sitting and relaxing for a change. She usually is in the kitchen directing the cooks, but since we all brought a dish or two, it was really nice and really relaxing.

My father hates my tattoos. He’s certain that one day when I’m older and wiser I’ll regret getting them in the first place and want to pay for the laser treatment or surgery that will remove them. Of course I wouldn’t have gotten them in the first place if I wasn’t sure that I wanted them for the rest of my life. I didn’t get anything stupid like a flaming skull or a girl’s name inked onto me that I’d hate looking at in the mirror every single day. I wanted deeply personal symbols. On my right arm, I have a Celtic knot, which admittedly means nothing. It’s just there because I’m Irish. Underneath that, I have a phoenix. Over on my left arm, I have a tree of life with ouroboros sitting on its branches. Ouroboros is the ancient symbol of the snake devouring its own tail I’m sure you’ve seen a thousand times before. Eternal life and immortality are the two running themes in my tattoos. I’m not religious or especially spiritual, but I like to think that part of me, if only the memory of me will go on forever even after I die and everyone else I know is gone as well.

My brother Dick is a personal injury attorney in Illinois. He lives in the city of Chicago. I haven’t been to Chicago, but I’ve been to New York, so I know what big cities are like, believe you me. My brother has his own law firm in Chicago. He graduated from DePaul University, first his BA, then his JD. Our parents moved to Florida a year before I was born, but when Dick was still in high school, they lived in a suburb of Chicago known as Riverside. It’s just west of Oak Park, where Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous houses are. Yes, Dick and I are 17 years apart. My mother was only 20 when Dick was born. When my dad came into some family money, they said, what the hey, let’s try it again, let’s try for a girl this time. And there I was, Camillia Patrice Zonenmast. Well, here’s the latest on ol’ CPZ. I’m returning to school myself—SUNY at Binghamton—for pre-med studies. I’m going to try to become a psychologist with a PsycD degree. I promised my brother that I would refer clients who felt wrongly injured by their employers or by their families or friends to him. It’s a long shot, because I live in Elmira, New York, which is well over 800 miles from Chicago. The good news is—Dick’s best college buddy, Steve, practices in Albany. I dated Steve recently after his first divorce, but nothing came of it and I suspect it’s just as well.

The laser surgeons that Laura and her partners went to did a great job. Now Laura is telling all of her friends about them. I would not have had the guts myself to cross the border and have the work done, and I'm sure my insurance would not cover it. That would mean it would be out of pocket for me, which would make thinking about a cheaper rate seem more understandable. I talked it over with Tara, and she agrees with me. It's not something I want to fool around with. You can't correct a mistake once it is made. And if there were a problem, how could it ever be taken care of. I know a lawyer who says that it's a different country so different laws apply, and sometimes you have no recourse at all. And if you do have some recourse, you would have to hire an attorney in that country to take care of it. So we pretty much decided to try to just set some money aside, talk with our insurance company, and see if somehow we can't get it covered. What a problem this has become, but I am making myself my own worse enemy by not just deciding on one thing and sticking to it.

My Grandmother has a friend who she goes to visit once a week. The other day, she was preparing something that smelled delicious. She said she was making a 3 berry trifle for her friend, Miss Bessie. is diabetic. My Grandmother decided that each week she would make her a special sweet dish and take it along for her visit. Miss Bessie now lives in a assisted living facility. A lot of the residents there know my Grandma and enjoy her company, as well as her deserts. They know its time for blood glucose meters to be used again sometime after they have had their lunch, and a good helping of Grandma 3 berry trifle. The group of residents that knows my Grandma look forward to Wednesdays, and even sometimes Sundays. My Grandma visits at least once a week, but sometimes twice. Since she cooks for Grandpa for some 30 years now, she is very good at preparing food for diabetics. She has known Miss Bessie since they were in the cradle together. They grew up practically next door to each other, and have always been staunch allies. Miss Bessie used to be, as Grandma puts it, skinny as a rail, but has gain weight.

I never thought I’d be searching all over the mall for a baby closet organizer. I never thought I’d ever have a baby, let alone have to go out and find a baby closet organizer for her. But what can I say? I met the right girl and we spent a few years dating and I knew there’d never be anyone else. So I proposed and she says yes, which I was fairly certain she but never completely one hundred percent sure. We had a huge wedding with all our friends and family and we’re happy for a few years. Then she comes to me and says she wants a baby. Before we married, we’d both said that we didn’t want any children and that had been that. Obviously, she changed her mind, but what could I do? She’s my wife and my soul mate and I always said I’d do anything at all that I could to make her happy. This just proves it. And now I haven’t regretted bringing our littler treasure named Julie into the world. Like with her mother, it was love at first sight for me and I’d have to do everything in my power to make her happy. Which, oddly enough, includes buying a baby closet organizer for her.

In Toni Morison’s novel “The bluest eye” we find a genuine description of American culture of 1940s and the process of cultural changes. In the 1920s when radio was first catching on, the idea of a popular culture was somewhat different than what we have today. Evolving over the next 30 years or so, it reached a peak where it could begin to overtake and become an integral part of other cultures, much like the Hollywood of the 1930s quickly grew to encompass the rest of the world and inform their pop culture. Thus began the final and full assimilation of Japanese pop culture into American.

From our observations of American tourists and some expatriates here in Mexico, they act as if the Mexican people are ignorant savages that should be thankful the Americans come and throw money into their economy. With Mexican-American relationships deteriorating at an exponential rate, what gets to me is the total lack of perception or unwillingness on the behalf of the American people to perceive their responsibility in this deterioration.

As an American, I am often jealous of Europeans who pick up languages like you'd pick up a bottle of milk at the store. Since Native American peoples had no concept of land ownership, the European invaders considered the land to be up for grabs. Another land issue that caused conflict within the Native American peoples was the policy of removing Indians from their traditional homelands onto reservations.

In talking with an elementary school principal, she shared with me that the single most contributing factor to the decline in academic achievement is the lack of values within society. An early effort to broaden the base of education was made by the Franciscans in Mexico with the support of Viceroy Mendoza.

If one was to go shopping at a local card store, there is an array of products that support ageism or the dis valuing of those who are considered biologically and culturally old. Is growing older a social and cultural perception? One which affects those who grow old to a negative or positive degree, depending upon what culture they are naturally acculturated? I believe growing old is in fact largely social and cultural, not just biological; it is a matter of perception, and in America a negative one. Remember when you're traveling in Europe that rudeness is largely a cultural perception.

In architecture, Spanish America made best use of its cultural heritage. The effectiveness of the Spanish American universities was uneven: some had periods of distinction; others were never more than mediocre training schools for priests; still others were little more than secondary schools.

Although African Americans were taxpayers like other residents of Orlando, they did not have access to recreational facilities, good schools, police protection, health care and other services that were provided to white citizens. Many of these canvases were brought from Spain, and an obliging sacristan is always ready to tell the visitor that this is an authentic Murillo, that a Titian, the other a Zurbaran. Perhaps we need a new term to describe the North American Sauna Culture.